The Glow of Sunrise
by Pennilyn Novus
Summary: The much anticipated companion piece to The Wound Dresser, told in quick glimpses. After Bill’s wedding, Harry, Ron and Hermione set out in search of Voldemort’s soul, leaving Ginny behind. Harry wonders if he'll ever see Ginny again...


**A/N: The world of Harry Potter belongs solely to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, and Warner Bros. Nothing is mine except the text of this little story. **

**This story is the companion piece to The Wound Dresser, found here at fan fiction. While it isn't necessary to read that story, it is helpful.**

**Thanks to my beta Clara Minutes for her help getting this story out to you at long last.**

_**The Glow of Sunrise**_

In the soft light of dawn, Harry could just make out the thin line of Ginny's silhouette rising and falling slowly under the worn sheets, the splash of red hair tangled on her cheek. He leaned back against the door, and as he listened to her gentle, sleeping breath, he imagined how wonderful it would be to simply climb into bed next to her and join her in sleep.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled the soft, flowery aroma that was Ginny and felt his throat grow tight. Would he ever smell that heady scent again?

Yesterday, she'd looked lovely in the airy bridesmaid gown; she could have danced with any of the young men who gazed at her appreciatively, but she'd only had eyes for Harry. She even cajoled him into dancing with her, and as he held her close and breathed in her sweet fragrance, he very nearly decided to let her come along after all.

But he knew the task ahead of him was dangerous, and he knew he would likely die, and as much as he wanted her with him, he did not want her last memory of him to be of his death. Even worse, he did not want to watch her draw her last breath, and so he had to leave her behind.

Harry heard a soft thud on the landing outside Ginny's room and his heart quickened. Was it too late? Had they already been discovered? Then he heard Ron swear lowly and Hermione shush him in a scandalized whisper, and felt his heart flop sickeningly in his chest. It was time; today they would begin their task, and they had to leave before anyone woke. He hoped she would understand.

The world beyond the closed curtains began to glow with the pink light of sunrise, and Harry could see Ginny's face more clearly. A faint wrinkle marred her forehead where her eyebrows drew together, and her lips turned down in a gentle frown. All week long, Harry had seen the concerned looks Ginny shot at him, Ron and Hermione, and it seemed now, even in sleep, Ginny knew something was wrong.

Harry ached to step forward, brush the tangled hair off her cheek, and kiss away her frown, but knew to do so, would be to wake her. Once she was awake, there would be no reasoning with her, and she would insist on packing a rucksack and coming along with them.

He imagined her in a few hours time, coming up the stairs to the room he shared with Ron, stomping loudly to announce her presence. Then she would fling open the door and grandly state that breakfast was ready and Mum said it was time they got their lazy arses out of bed. And then she would realize their beds were empty, their brooms were gone, and then perhaps she would see the note that Ron had propped against his pillow.

Of course, she wouldn't believe they had really gone; after all, Harry had promised her that he wouldn't leave her behind. Once it sank in what they'd done, she'd search for Harry's note, but she wouldn't find one.

For as many times as Harry had tried and failed in the past week to break it to her that he had to do this without her, he couldn't even find the right words to write to say goodbye. He hoped he'd be back one day, and then he would explain. Hopefully she wouldn't hex him on sight.

"Harry, mate," Ron whispered through the door.

"Yeah?"

"We need to go," Ron paused, and Harry could imagine Ron, on the other side of the door, at odds even now with leaving Harry in his little sister's bedroom. "We'll be in the kitchen," he muttered finally.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Harry stepped away from the door and turned to go. He stopped with his hand on the knob and looked over his shoulder. The curtains blew in the soft morning breeze and the pale light slipping through the window danced off Ginny's face. Swallowing hard, Harry concentrated on the ache in his chest and tried to no avail to will it away.

It was not the last time. He would see her again.

Except, he didn't really believe that.

Choking back an angry sob, Harry strode quietly across the room and knelt by her bed. He reached out a trembling hand and gave in to the impulse to brush the sweaty strands of red off her cheek. The frown on her face melted and she sighed in her sleep.

Harry tried to capture every hair, every pale eyelash, each single freckle, and commit it to memory. The way the pink light of the early sun warmed the apple of her cheeks. The flash of the pale, soft skin of her neck and shoulders, glistening slightly with sweat. He bit back a sigh and trailed his thumb lightly across her lips before carefully easing in and barely, just barely brushing his lips across hers.

She stirred and Harry froze, half hoping she would awaken, but praying she wouldn't. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled as she saw him kneeling beside her bed.

"Harry?" she whispered sleepily.

"Shh, you're dreaming," Harry answered, his voice painfully tight.

She hummed contentedly and smiled. Her eyes slid shut again and after a moment, Harry was sure she was again asleep. He knew from experience she wouldn't remember this moment, and he couldn't decide if he was grateful or sad for that.

"Ginny," Harry whispered, feeling tears welling in his eyes. "I love you," he choked out, lightly stroking her cheek with his thumb.

Ginny sighed happily again and murmured softly, "I love you, too." She snuggled deeper into her sheets and began to snore quietly.

The hot tears Harry struggled against slipped down his cheeks as he stood again, his heart in his throat. It was time. He had to go. If he didn't do this, nobody else would. If he didn't do this, one day soon, love would not be enough to save anyone.

Bolstered suddenly, Harry tiptoed to the door and stepped out. He didn't look back as he shut the door, not certain he would be able to leave if he saw her face again.

* * *

During the weeks and months that followed, Harry tried miserably to focus on the task at hand, and think of little else. They hid in a small tent in the most remote locations they could find, and went in search of Voldemort's soul. 

Three weeks into their campaign, Harry, Ron and Hermione celebrated the location and destruction of the locket Horcrux, under their noses the entire time at Grimmauld Place. That night, they tumbled into their tent, exhausted but exhilarated, after destroying the bit of Voldemort's soul that cost Dumbledore his life. For the first time since embarking on his task with his friends in tow, Harry felt hope. And as he slipped into his camp bed and dozed pleasantly, he thought of Ginny and the blazing expression on her face as she charged across the common room after the Quidditch game. That night he dreamt, vividly, of a particularly pleasant afternoon down by the lake.

In the morning, Harry woke, completely chuffed by his dream. He even had the good will to smile indulgently at Ron's empty camp bed, though he studiously avoided looking at the sheet that separated Hermione's sleeping quarters from the rest of the tent. He pulled open the tent flap and peered out into the clearing, which was lit with the warm orange glow of early morning. Harry rolled out of the tent just in time to intercept the owl bearing Hermione's subscription to the _Daily Prophet_. The smile dropped from his face as he unfolded the paper and caught the headline.

**MINISTRY MASSACRE! SCRIMGEOUR ASSASSINATED, MINISTRY FALLS.**

Harry sat down heavily on the rocky ground and felt a sour taste rising in his throat. He read on, horrified.

_Aurors reported late yesterday afternoon that the former head of the Auror corps  
__and Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour was found murdered in his drawing  
room at his personal residence in Devon. Soon after, scattered reports indicated that  
Death Eaters had begun to gather at the Ministry of Magic. Reserve Aurors  
already standing guard reported an efficient evacuation of the building taking place,  
and more Aurors took up guard throughout the facility. The Aurors described  
the situation as being well in hand. However, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named  
arrived on the scene within minutes of the report. Acting Minister of Magic  
Dolores Umbridge attempted to negotiate with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named  
and succumbed to the Killing Curse. The Death Eaters then overran the Atrium  
and quickly (cont' pg 2)_

_(For list of victims of Ministry Massacre, please see __pages 3-4) _

With numb fingers, Harry ripped open the paper and methodically searched the third and fourth page. Filled with dread and a sick sense of relief, he carefully read the long list again, but she was not there. There was nobody he knew in the list of victims.

He dropped the paper to the ground and ran a shaking hand through his sweaty hair. He rubbed his scar with a mixture of anger and wonder. It hadn't twinged once the entire previous day. Then he staggered to the edge of the trees and retched up the little food in his stomach.

Hermione and Ron emerged with flushed and shy faces from the tent and found Harry, his eyes wild and raging, reading through the paper again.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, her smile dissolving into a look of concern. "Has something happened?" Her eyes widened as she read the headline. She unsteadily reached for the _Prophet_ and began to read, Ron hovering over her shoulder.

"Oh, Merlin," Ron croaked after he scanned the front page. He tore the paper from Hermione's hands and flipped to the list of victims.

"They aren't in there," Harry said hoarsely. "Your family is safe."

"Oh, Merlin," Ron sighed again, sinking weakly to his knees next to Harry.

"I have to – I have to _stop_ him," Harry stated dully. "There won't be anything left of the world if I don't _do_ something!"

Hermione pressed her body to his left side and hugged him weakly. Her voice muffled, she said, "Harry, we _are_ doing something."

"But not fast enough," Harry replied miserably.

Ron grabbed his shoulders and shook him, slightly dislodging Hermione. "Mate, you're not blaming yourself for this."

Harry stared at him dully, too shocked even to be angry.

"Harry, Hermione is right. We're destroying that wanker and he doesn't even know it, the bloody poof. We're not sitting out here doing _nothing_, and you're not going to feel guilty about this."

Ron suddenly wrapped his arms around Harry and Hermione and pulled them close. The paper crumpled between them. Harry could feel wetness against his cheek and realized Hermione was crying. Slowly, he brought his arms up and put them around his friends, and together they huddled on the ground and held on to each other as though their lives depended on it.

* * *

After that fateful morning, all three had taken to sleeping in the same bed, huddled next to each other for comfort. Still, not one of them slept very well. Harry woke often to find Ron sitting at the tent flap, staring out into the night, wand clenched in his fist. Other times, Hermione would cry when she thought both boys were asleep. 

And when Harry couldn't sleep, he fingered the false locket around his neck and chanted his mantra in his head: _the cup, something of Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's, the snake._ Other times, he thought of the Weasleys, who had made him a son and given him a family, or of Dumbledore, who had given his life. But most often, he remembered the freckles on Ginny's nose, or her pale eyelashes, or her cheeks glowing with early morning light. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost recall her sweet scent.

The morning that the _Prophet_ announced the Battle for Diagon Alley, it came as no real surprise. Also no surprise was the unconfirmed report that the Death Eaters struggled to take 93 Diagon Alley, and while the joke shop eventually did fall to Voldemort's followers, the resulting chain reaction explosion took out every Death Eater in a three-block radius. Ron managed a weak grin when several Weasley Wildfire Whizbangs shot across the accompanying photo of the devastation.

Harry, gratefully relieved that the twins escaped any harm, also found himself grinning maliciously as he envisioned Fred and George even now cheerfully plotting their revenge on Voldemort.

The day the headlines announced the fall of Hogwarts, they retreated to the tent and Hermione sobbed into Ron's shoulder. Ron withstood only a few minutes before his heartbroken sobs joined Hermione's, and at last, Harry felt the grief catch painfully in his throat, and lost his tears into his best friends' shoulders. They grieved themselves to sleep, collapsing in a damp, sticky pile of misery.

When Harry woke later, Ron sat silhouetted at the tent flap, his wand held tightly in his fist. Behind him, the mountain sky flushed with the ruddy tinge of dawn.

"All right, Ron?" Harry whispered weakly, disentangling himself from Hermione, who slept on fretfully.

Ron turned slowly and Harry felt his blood chill in his veins at the look of hate on Ron's face.

"We're going to kill him," Ron quietly stated. Harry paused a moment and then nodded.

"Good," Ron hissed, before letting loose with a diatribe of obscenities that would have made Mrs. Weasley blush before she washed out his mouth.

"My thoughts precisely," croaked Hermione from her spot on the bed. Ron gaped at her, astounded. If Harry didn't feel so numbed, he probably would have found it funny.

A few mornings after that, the _Daily Prophet_ stopped coming.

* * *

The rest of the summer passed by with no news, which worried Harry more than when he knew what was going on. September 1st came and went, and though Hermione looked glum for several days, Ron and Harry said nothing to note what should have been the beginning of their final year at Hogwarts. 

On Halloween, Harry rather smugly added the Hufflepuff cup to the list of destroyed Horcruxes.

"That's more destroyed than still exists," Ron noted gleefully.

However, they had no idea what the next Horcrux was, and as Christmas passed uncelebrated, Harry and his friends sequestered themselves in their tent and fruitlessly searched Dumbledore's massive tome of notes.

With the lack of news, Harry grew more and more on edge, and Hermione and Ron gave him a wide berth as he worked tirelessly through the last of Dumbledore's notebooks. He slowly closed the book, having found nothing definitive to help them. He saw Hermione watching him closely and he sighed.

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to check every last one of the places Dumbledore listed as likely for Voldemort to hide a Horcrux."

But as the months wore on with no results, Harry felt the tension eating away at him. They had no way of knowing what was going on with the war; they had no idea if there was even anything left worth saving. The whole world could have fallen down, every person he loved could be dead, and he wouldn't know it. They were so careful to avoid detection by either side that they hadn't seen anyone beside each other since they left the Burrow.

Their travels took them all around England and the continent, following up on Dumbledore's notes. Now they found themselves once again close to home, and the pull to see familiar faces was unbearable.

"We can use the Invisibility Cloak, and just watch for a bit," Ron pleaded insistently.

"Ron, mate, you _know_ we can't do that," Harry protested weakly. "If they found out we were there, it would compromise their safety, and our mission." Even as he argued against it, Harry found himself secretly wanting to do just as Ron suggested. He pictured Ginny's face, her cheeks and tip of her nose red from the cold, her ginger hair swinging about on her shoulders as she leaned forward to warm her slender hands at the fire. He thought about the humid warmth of the Burrow's kitchen, and Mrs. Weasley's cooking, and spared a glance around their bare tent.

"Harry, no way," Hermione said firmly, noticing his look. "It isn't safe."

"They'd never know we were there, I promise," Ron coaxed hopefully. "Just long enough to make sure everyone is okay, and then we leave again."

Hermione started to open her mouth, but then shot a worried look at Ron. Harry wondered if she were thinking what he was thinking: What if everyone wasn't okay? Then what would happen?

Reluctantly, Harry looked at Ron and nodded discreetly towards Hermione. "I'm sorry Ron. I can't go along with this. It just isn't safe."

Ron paused and gave Harry a curious look, and Harry knew he understood what he meant. Still looking at Harry, he muttered, "Fine. I get it. It isn't safe for all of us to go to the Burrow." He stood and strode to the sheet that separated the second bedroom. "I'm going to bed. I need to be alone for a while."

Later, Harry lay awake in bed long after Hermione's breathing slowed with sleep. He listened alertly and at last heard the faintest rustle as the sheet pulled back. He saw Ron's gangly figure steal out of the second bedroom and ease across the tent to Harry's trunk. Harry saw him remove the cloak – Harry had put it on top so it would be easy to find – and turn to ease out through the flap.

"Be safe," Harry whispered quietly.

Ron started and turned back to the bed. "Harry…" he breathed quietly. "I – I'm…"

"Make sure you're back before dawn, or Hermione will kill me if she wakes up and you're gone," Harry cut him off quietly. Ron blinked and slowly nodded. "And –" Harry stopped, embarrassed. Suddenly, he couldn't find the words to express his worry. Between the three of them, they managed to lean on each other without falling over, but if the trio suddenly became just a duo, Harry was certain they would topple. If anything happened to Ron, he would never forgive himself. At the same time, he burned to know if Ginny and the other Weasleys were safe. "Just go," he murmured quietly.

With a quick nod, Ron slipped out of the tent, the cloak draped over his arm.

Harry didn't know when he finally drifted to sleep; he'd intended to wait until Ron returned, but suddenly a hand grabbed his arm and shook him.

"Harry," an insistent voice called, "Wake up."

Harry bolted up in bed, dislodging Hermione, who fell from the bed with a squawk. Instantly, she was on her feet, wand in hand. Harry blinked owlishly and looked to where she had trained her wand.

"What the bloody hell?" he yelped, jumping out of bed and snatching up his wand.

"Harry, wait," Bill Weasley said soothingly, holding up his hands and stepping in front of Draco Malfoy.

Ron stepped in front of his brother, his face grim and tired. "It's okay, Harry. This git," he jerked his head at Malfoy, who looked peaked and pale, "is working with us now."

Harry glanced over at Hermione, and she looked back, a disbelieving expression on her face. "What?" she gasped.

"How do I know you're actually you?" Harry challenged Ron. "You could be a Death Eater imposter."

"Ask me a question, then, mate."

"What did you see when you looked into the Mirror of Erised?"

"Me, as head boy and Quidditch captain, holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup."

"And how do I know you aren't under Imperius?"

"Oh, that's easy," Ron answered with a smirk. "If I were under Imperius, I would never do this." And with that, he rounded on Malfoy and punched him squarely in the gut.

Malfoy exhaled in shock and doubled over, gasping, but did nothing to defend himself. Harry blinked.

"And are you sure that's actually Draco Malfoy?" Hermione asked dubiously, no doubt wondering as Harry did, why the other boy hadn't returned the blow or hexed Ron into next week for the cheap shot.

Bill, who had remained quiet, produced a thin vial from the folds of his robes, which Harry recognized immediately.

"Veritaserum?"

Malfoy nodded, looking distinctly green. He grasped the vial and quickly downed the contents. "I've had two doses now. Ask me anything," he groaned, still clutching his stomach.

Hermione responded first. "Why have you left Voldemort's service?"

"Because he has destroyed my life," Malfoy shot back immediately.

"Do you have any information that will help us destroy him?" Harry said.

"Yes."

Malfoy's honest and detailed answers under Veritaserum left little doubt in Harry's mind, though he was still reluctant to trust the boy who had been the bane of his existence since the moment they met. Still, it was impossible to discount the sincerity of his answers, and Bill's utter faith in him gave Harry little choice but to begrudge that maybe Malfoy had changed, and perhaps he was going to be able to help.

And he knew about the Horcruxes, which surprised them all.

* * *

Afterwards, Harry would think how odd it was that Ron and Hermione agreed so readily to allow Draco Malfoy to assist them in their Horcrux hunt. Especially Ron, who described being nearly frantic when he arrived at the Burrow and found it deserted, his Mum's clock still on the mantle with all hands pointing to Mortal Peril. 

Ron retold his frenzied search of the house, slipping from room to room, finding each empty and cold, as if they'd been unused for months. He'd just finished searching the attic and concluded the house really was empty, when he heard a muffled noise drift up the crooked stairs.

Bill chuckled and broke into the story. "There were alarm wards on the house, but since they were set to recognize Weasleys, Ron didn't trip them. We had just come back from an Order mission and were in the kitchen getting ready for tea when he burst into the room and started sending hexes everywhere."

"Nearly took my head off," Malfoy drawled, but Harry noticed the slight upturn at the corner of his rival's mouth and realized with a shock that Malfoy was amused.

Bill was full of war news, and grimly described Voldemort's campaign on the world. Ron turned red and then white when Bill explained that while Voldemort had left Hogwarts standing, he had firmly entrenched himself there, and was now using the castle as an internment camp for Muggles and Muggle-born. When Bill had gone on to recount how Lucius Malfoy brought a prisoner before his master every day for experimental torture, Harry glared daggers at Malfoy.

Malfoy had the grace to look embarrassed.

Harry finally blurted out the question that he was almost too scared to ask. "What about your mum and dad, and…Ginny, and everyone? Are they okay?" He felt his face flush with shame as he stumbled over Ginny's name. What right did he have to ask about her after he'd walked away from her?

"Dad and Charlie and the twins have been actively involved in the fighting," Bill answered, giving Harry a searching look. Harry looked at his feet, his face hot. "But I don't know where Mum or Ginny are, Harry. I'm sorry."

"You haven't heard anything?" he asked quietly, trying not to choke on the tightness in his throat.

Bill looked distinctly uncomfortable and Ron spoke up. "Bill told me that Mum left a note saying that she and Ginny were going to St. Mungo's to help heal the wounded, but when Dad went to look for them, he was told that they'd been sent out into the field hospitals and nobody was quite certain where they ended up."

Harry blinked blindly and plopped gracelessly onto his trunk. "So they're…missing?" he croaked, cursing himself for ever thinking he could protect Ginny by leaving her behind.

Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "I'm sure she's fine, Harry," she whispered in his ear.

Strangely enough, it was Malfoy who gave him words of comfort. "Potter," he said tentatively, "Weaselette can take care of herself. She's murder with that Bat-Bogey Hex."

Harry laughed raggedly. He glanced at Malfoy with grudging respect.

"It'll be safest for you if I don't tell anyone I've seen you," Bill sighed regretfully as he prepared to leave. "I know Dad and Charlie are going spare to know you're safe, but if they know I've seen you, they'll never let me rest until I tell them where you are."

Harry nodded and saw Hermione's arm snake around Ron's waist, pulling him closer.

"Will you let us know if – if something happens?" Harry asked quietly.

"I'll keep you posted, one way or the other," Bill answered stoutly, squeezing Harry's shoulder. "And you, whatever it is you're doing out here, this Horcrux hunt – well, let us know when you're finished. It would be good to have you back in the fight."

Harry felt his blood quicken in his veins and he struggled against the surge of anger Bill's innocent comment provoked. Did the entire world think he had fled and was hiding until Voldemort was defeated?

Bill must have noticed Harry's stony face because he quickly amended, "I know what you're doing is important to the fight, Harry."

"You're bloody right, it is!" Ron exclaimed incredulously.

"I know, I know," Bill repeated. "But everyone is feeling a little low these days, and having you visibly helping will make everyone feel better."

* * *

After Bill left, the four former classmates stared at each other uncomfortably until Hermione showed Malfoy the second bed behind the sheet. Malfoy appeared surprised by the kindness and stopped her as she nervously rambled on about the Horcruxes they'd destroyed. 

"I'm sorry," Malfoy said clearly, in a voice quite different from anything any of them had ever heard from him.

"You – I…what?" Hermione stuttered, clearly caught off guard.

"I said I'm sorry." He looked over at Harry and Ron, who both gaped at him in surprise. "All of you." Then he slipped behind the sheet and left them staring at each other uncertainly.

Harry didn't really know what had happened to so dramatically change Malfoy's personality, but it was obvious after Hermione's tentative queries that the boy had no desire to discuss it. However, Harry saw Malfoy often gazing blankly into space, his expression a mixture of longing and guilt, and Harry knew whatever it was tormented the pale boy endlessly.

Remembering how he felt after Sirius fell through the veil, Harry wondered if perhaps Malfoy had suffered a similar loss, and left the other boy to his thoughts. He had plenty worries of his own, brooding over Ginny's whereabouts.

Malfoy acted unaffected and while he was pleasant enough – which shocked Harry – he remained distant. He was, however, very helpful when it came to the Horcruxes. He knew the identity of the remaining items, but did not know where to locate them. Harry was only somewhat surprised to find out that Dumbledore had gotten it wrong and that the snake was not a Horcrux. Instead, the two remaining Horcruxes were the Gryffindor sword and the Ravenclaw wand.

"Wait, the wand – was that why Ollivander disappeared?" Hermione stopped him, her eyes wide.

Malfoy nodded. "The wand in the window," he answered evenly.

"Great," Ron groaned. "So all we have to do is find Ollivander, convince him to give us the wand and destroy it. Then we simply march into Hogwarts and demand that Voldemort hand over the sword. Brilliant," he muttered, "bloody brilliant."

* * *

Locating Ollivander turned out to be a chore of enormous proportions. They found themselves disguised in Death Eater garb, picking through the remnants of the wand shop. No clues pointed to his location and they left as quietly as they'd come, without drawing attention to themselves. 

Hermione began a thorough search of Ollivander's family history, hoping to discover something that would point them in the right direction. Feeling rather helpless, the boys joined in too. Malfoy again surprised them with his nearly fanatical obsession with the task. It seemed he wanted Voldemort gone just as badly as Harry did.

One evening, as Ron and Hermione half-heartedly bickered, Harry slipped out of the tent into the cool spring night. They had set up camp in a valley, next to a small stream, and Harry let his feet guide him to the water's edge. As he'd seen Malfoy leave the tent earlier, he wasn't startled when the other boy came up beside him.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, listening to the faint babble of the stream and the rush of the breeze through the tall grass. Harry looked to the sky and observed the nearly full moon. He felt a pang in his gut. Wherever Remus was, Harry knew he was preparing for another monthly transformation, and Harry was filled with an overwhelming sense of homesickness.

Looking up, Harry could almost imagine he was sitting in the back garden at the Burrow, and Ginny was sitting beside him. He closed his eyes and pictured her heart shaped, freckled face turned to the sky, her skin pale in the moonlight and her hair streaming haphazardly down her back. He sighed and opened his eyes, determined that he _would_ have that moment. If Ginny would even look at him if he came back. _When_ _he came back_, he corrected himself.

"Potter," Malfoy said quietly, at last.

Harry turned. Malfoy gazed up at the sky, a wistful expression on his pointed face. Without looking away from the stars, Malfoy continued in a fierce voice, "When you do it – when you kill him, I want to be there."

Harry hesitated. "He killed your mother, didn't he," he said, suddenly certain of it.

Malfoy slowly turned away from the sky and met Harry's gaze. His grey eyes blazed hotly but his clenched jaw couldn't hide his trembling lips. He didn't answer the question, but Harry knew he was right. Instead, Malfoy repeated in a deadly quiet voice, "I want to be there."

Harry paused again. He knew a thing or two about losing parents and suddenly felt an odd kinship with Malfoy. If anyone deserved a place by his side, he imagined the tortured soul sitting beside him had that right.

"Yes," Harry stated emphatically.

"Promise me; _swear to me_."

"I swear it," Harry promised, holding out his hand. Malfoy grabbed it tightly.

"Good," said the pale boy, letting go and turning back to the sky. "Good."

* * *

Two days after Malfoy inadvertently led them to the Ravenclaw wand, Harry and his companions followed him to Godric's Hollow, and the new headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix. They Apparated just outside the deserted graveyard on the edge of the village, which Harry had visited nearly a year ago. Then, without pausing to take a breath, Malfoy struck out rapidly down the slightly overgrown path. 

Harry shot a look to his friends on either side of him, and together they hurried forward to follow the pale boy. Malfoy stopped in front of an overgrown, empty lot not far from the plot where Harry's parents had once lived, and looked expectantly at the Gryffindors.

"Erm," Hermione began.

"Obviously you can't see it," Malfoy smirked, looking more like his old self than he had during the previous months. "But if you each grab hold of me, I can lead you inside."

Moments later, they stood inside an old cottage, blinking and looking around. Remus Lupin jumped out of his chair by the fire, his book falling to the floor.

"Harry!" he cried, "Where have you been? What are you doing here?" He strode forward and engulfed each teen in a massive hug, even Malfoy, who didn't look like he entirely minded.

Harry felt tears threaten to spill from his eyes as Lupin grabbed him again and looked him up and down. "Remus," he croaked finally, "it's time."

The smile fell from Lupin's face and he pushed Harry to arm's length. "What do you mean, Harry?"

"Can you gather everyone? We're going to Hogwarts tonight to finish it."

Lupin looked at Harry with a measured gaze, then turned and observed the other three quietly. "Give me an hour, Harry, and I'll have everyone here."

Harry sighed and sagged slightly in Lupin's grasp. He lowered himself into a comfortable armchair and rested his forehead in his hands. He focused on breathing and convincing himself that he would finish it tonight, and then he'd go track down Ginny. Her voice drifted through his mind, and he could hear her laugh kindly at his doubts. He imagined her nonchalantly shaking her head and saying she knew he could do it, and she didn't understand what the big deal was.

All too soon, the hushed voices of the members of the Order rose up from the next room and a gentle touch on his shoulder made him look up. Hermione smiled reassuringly at him.

"They're here, Harry. They're waiting for you."

* * *

Harry never imagined he would have to break his promise to Malfoy, but as the Death Eaters determinedly closed in around them, Harry knew he wouldn't be able to proceed with the other boy beside him. He pressed his back against Malfoy's and they slowly spun, facing the glowing white masks surrounding them, the black robes blending in to the dark night. 

As if reading his thoughts, Malfoy quietly said over his shoulder, "You're going to have to go on without me."

As much as Harry had despised the Slytherin at one time, he had unknowingly become rather attached to the boy at his back. From the severity of the Death Eater curses, Harry knew unequivocally that if he left Malfoy on this field, the other boy would be dead in minutes.

"Draco…" Harry began, not wanting to leave him alone to his fate.

"Harry," Malfoy said, his voice certain and strong. "You have to go on without me. You've got to kill him, so I'm going to have to fight this one without you."

From outside the ring of black robes, Hermione sent a well-timed curse into the line of Death Eaters flanking Harry and Malfoy. The spell sent the black-robed figures sprawling.

"Go!" Malfoy yelled, pulling away from Harry and sprinting toward the regrouping Death Eaters.

Harry stumbled up the hill towards the castle, and chanced a look over his shoulder. Malfoy moved like a blur in the moonlight. As the ring of Death Eaters attempted to close in, he knocked them back. Flashes of spell light concentrated around him and bounced off his shield. For a moment, Harry stood still, in awe of the warrior his old rival had become.

Ron and Hermione struggled to his side.

Gathering up every ounce of courage he had, Harry glanced at his two best friends, the two people who had followed him everywhere and believed in him as nobody else ever had. He felt his heart swell with love for the both of them.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready!"

They burst into the Entrance Hall and took off up the stairs for Dumbledore's old office, praying that the room had sealed itself off from Voldemort, praying that the sword would still be there.

* * *

Harry was going to die, of course. He had expected that it would end up that way. He was not prepared for the regret and the longing that followed the realization that his moments were numbered and he would never see his friends' faces again, that he had never gotten to say goodbye. At the moment of his epiphany, Harry tightened his hold on Gryffindor's sword, ignoring the scalding pain in his scar. If he was about to die, Voldemort was going to go with him. 

Voldemort laughed gleefully and pulled Harry closer, tracing his pointed finger along Harry's scar. "At last, Harry," Voldemort hissed, "the time has come for me to be rid of you."

Harry gritted his teeth and tried to focus his bleary eyes on the snake-like face in front of him. "You first," he snarled.

Voldemort howled with laughter, the high-pitched sound echoing loudly in the otherwise silent Great Hall. He tightened his grip on Harry's arm and summoned the broken pieces of Harry's wand. "Brave to the end, foolish boy," the Dark wizard said silkily. "How do you expect to defeat me without a wand?"

Harry blinked and focused through the pain. He again imagined he heard the ghost Ginny's voice whispering in his head, "I believe in you, Harry. I know you can do it. Come back to me."

_Ginny._ He had to do this for Ginny.

Over the course of the year, Harry had started hundreds of letters to Ginny, each of them beginning with, 'I love you,' and 'I'm sorry', but inevitably, the words ran out and he ended up staring at the parchment, his face burning with shame. He had broken his promise; he had left her behind. Yet she'd always been at the surface of his mind, willing to walk with him and sit beside him as he repeatedly told himself he actually _could _defeat the most powerful Dark wizard the world had ever known. In his mind, she'd always told him she knew he would come back to her victorious.

"ANIMUS EXPULSUM!" Harry roared, ripping himself free and swinging the heavy sword to the ground with all his might. The blade shattered on the stone floor, and a blinding explosion flashed through the room, rocking the foundation of the school.

Voldemort howled with fury and lunged for Harry. The shattered hilt still in his fist, Harry rushed forward to meet his opponent. He jabbed out with the broken blade and froze in shock as the Dark wizard's momentum carried him forward onto the shattered remains of the sword. For a moment, there was nothing but eerie silence in the hall as both fighters looked down where the blade was buried to the hilt in Voldemort's chest.

Harry let go of the hilt as black blood began to seep out onto his fingers. Voldemort let out a garbled laugh.

"You can't beat me, Potter. I'm immortal. I'll never die."

Harry felt a surge of triumph wash over him, even as he staggered to remain standing. "Wrong again, Tom. I've destroyed all your Horcruxes. The diary, the ring, the locket, the cup, the wand, and now the sword. And you," he gasped, reaching forward and ripping the broken sword out of Voldemort's chest.

With a roar of rage, Voldemort dove at Harry, knocking him off his unsteady feet. In spite of the blood gushing freely from the gaping wound in his chest, the dying wizard possessed an inhuman amount of strength. He wrapped his icy fingers firmly around Harry's neck and pinned him to the ground.

Desperate, Harry scrabbled at the vise-like fingers cutting off his air. He strained to throw the slight weight of his enemy from his body, but the battle leading up to this point had sapped him of his strength. Blindly, he punched at Voldemort's face, and landed a solid hit to the snake-like nose.

Startled by the fresh pain, Voldemort's grip loosened enough for Harry to fill his air-starved lungs with a gasp of air, before the evil wizard redoubled his efforts. Grimly, Harry wrapped his own hands tightly around Voldemort's cold, dry neck, digging his thumbs into his Adam's apple. Harry kicked wildly, trying to buck free. As Voldemort straddled him determinedly, a maniacal glint in his eyes, Harry brought up his knee sharply. Voldemort's reddened face turned purple and he let go of Harry's neck, attempting to curl around himself.

Harry rolled away, wheezing as he tried to breathe. Suddenly the temperature in the Great Hall soared, and the air burned Harry's lungs. His body starving for oxygen, Harry weakly grabbed the broken sword and crawled to where Voldemort thrashed on the ground, black blood pooling on the ground around him. He gathered up his remaining energy and plunged the broken sword once more into Voldemort's chest, where his heart should beat, if he had one.

As Voldemort's inhuman screams rattled the windowpanes in the Great Hall, Harry tried to gasp in a breath, but the pain in his side and the scorching heat of the air in the hall left him unable to fill his lungs. Tom Riddle writhed on the ground, and Harry refused to let go of the quivering sword, even as the blade under his hands began to burn red-hot.

Harry knew he was dying as well. Black spots began to dance in front of his eyes as his lungs ached for air, but still he held on. The bright moonlight bleeding through the rattling windows faded and Harry fell forward, his hands still wrapped tightly around the sword pinning his dying foe. Flashes of images raced through his mind.

_Mrs. Weasley smiled kindly at him and explained how to get to Platform 9 ¾._

_Ginny ran after the train, laughing, her tiny round face streaked with tears. _

_Ron and Hermione stoutly stood by his side and stared down at the unconscious troll._

_Ginny sat up next to him in the Chamber of Secrets, and looked at him with shocked amazement._

_Hermione placed herself in front of him as they faced Sirius for the first time in the Shrieking Shack._

_Ron's face glowed as he recounted being the thing Harry would miss most after the second task. _

_Ginny shared a private smile with Harry inside the Room of Requirements. _

_Ginny charged at him in the common room, her face set determinedly and her eyes blazing._

_Ginny's lips pressed against his, her fingers in his hair as they sat behind a large boulder by the lake._

_Ginny danced close to him, in her airy bridesmaid dress, smiling with good humor as he trod on her toes _

_Ginny's freckled nose, her sleep flushed cheeks, her pale eyelashes fluttering gently before she opened her eyes and gazed at him._

"_I love you too," Ginny whispered in her sleep._

Harry's lungs felt as if they would burst if he didn't breathe, but there was no air left in the room. Voldemort's screams choked off and the sword in Harry's hand sank through nothingness and clattered to the floor. He knew he was victorious, even if he could never return to Ginny. He could die happy, with Ginny's words of love echoing in his ear.

* * *

Sound returned first, voices above him quietly retelling the final battle. Scent followed sound, and Harry smelled the aroma of lavender and a less pleasant antiseptic odor. His fingers curled around the edge of a soft sheet, and he sensed now that he was in a bed. Cautiously, he wiggled his toes, and satisfied with that, flexed his fingers experimentally. He swallowed in relief and wanted to gag; there was a foul taste in his mouth. 

"Water," he choked quietly. Immediately the voices cut off and a cool hand stroked his forehead. He tried to open his eyes but they felt glued shut.

"You awake, Harry?"

He nodded slowly, the motion painful and relieving. A straw pressed against his dry lips and he gratefully swallowed the cool liquid. He sighed, the foul taste gone.

Dim light showed through his eyelids and Harry tried again to blink.

"One moment, Harry," a familiar voice soothed him. He felt a cool damp cloth gently swipe at his eyes. "Try it now."

He cracked open one eye, wincing at the brightness of the lamp next to his bed. A blurry figure sat next to him on the bed, but he could not discern who it was in the faint light.

"Ginny?" he asked hopefully. A soft round of chuckles greeted his ears.

"No, not Ginny. Not yet."

Harry blinked and opened both eyes, weakly raising a hand to shield the bright lamp light.

"Here, Harry," the same motherly voice said, and a moment later he felt his glasses slide onto his face. Mrs. Weasley's proud face came into focus.

"Is he dead?" Harry asked weakly. "Is it over?"

Hermione sat down on his other side and grabbed his hand in hers. She brought it to her lips and kissed it tenderly. She looked up, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "You did it," she whispered. "You saved us all."

Harry blinked the grit out of his eyes and felt a wild surge of hope stir in his chest. "He's dead, then?" he repeated, his voice somewhat stronger.

Hermione nodded, tears spilling down her smiling face. "He's dead," she stated proudly. "You did it."

Harry looked up at the two women smiling down at him and felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. "Where's Ron?" he asked, looking around for the familiar ginger hair.

"Here, mate," said a scratchy voice to his right. Harry winced as he turned his head, a tight pain in the back of his neck. Ron grinned tiredly over at him from the next bed. His father sat next to him, looking proud enough to burst.

"Ron," Harry breathed, feeling a weight lifting from his body. "You look bloody awful."

Hermione's laugh sounded half sob and she buried her face in her hands.

Ron smirked and retorted, "You ought to see yourself, mate. You're in a right state."

Mrs. Weasley shushed her son, still smiling. "Nonsense, Harry. Nothing wrong with you that a little more sleep won't cure."

"Where is he?" a wild voice called from the far end of the hospital tent.

Hermione looked up and smiled, then hurried away from the bed. Mrs. Weasley turned and smiled as well. She touched her husband's arm, and he stood slowly. Ron rolled his head towards the source of the whispered commotion. Harry's overly sensitive ears heard the quiet, sob-like inhalation.

"Over here, Ginny," Hermione said.

Harry lurched up onto his elbows, pain forgotten.

_Ginny._

Hundreds of letters unsent, apologies that never seemed good enough, words of love that seemed too little after leaving with nary a goodbye. Yet she had been all that sustained him during his yearlong hunt. What would she say? Would she yell? Would she even acknowledge him? Harry didn't really care. He just wanted to see her.

Mrs. Weasley smiled at him and patted his leg before she stood and stepped out of the way.

Harry sought out Ginny desperately. He caught the glint of lamp light off her mussed fiery hair, the milky pale skin dotted with faint freckles, the gentle mouth open with shock. The look in her eyes filled Harry with a warmth he'd forgotten he could feel. Harry smiled in relief; it was good to see her again. Ginny wobbled dangerously in the aisle between the beds, and Hermione held her up, still grinning madly.

"Harry…" Ginny breathed. She swayed against Hermione, who led her forward without a word and eased her down on the side of Harry's bed. "Harry," Ginny repeated, raking her eyes up and down his body as if she didn't believe he was really there. She leaned forward and laid her head on his chest above his heart, quietly wrapping her arms around him. Her hair splayed across his chest and her warm breath brushed against his pajama top. Harry fell back in the bed under her weight and gratefully put his arms around her. He held her tightly against him, his eyes blurry with tears.

"Harry," Ginny sighed into his chest, her voice muffled. "You're here."

Harry wasn't aware that someone had conjured curtains around his bed until he looked up and found the wall of white surrounding him and Ginny.

She crawled up his body, stretching out next to him in the narrow bed. Wrapping her arms around him again, she rested her forehead against his neck, her breath ragged with tears. All of his aches forgotten, Harry cradled Ginny against him, inhaling the heady, flowery scent of her hair. She was lovely. And she was there, with him.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered into her hair.

"Sorry?" she choked, raising her tear streaked face to gaze at him wonderingly. "Why are you sorry?"

"I broke my promise. And I didn't say goodbye."

Ginny's face went thoughtful and then a slight smile crossed her lips. "But you did say goodbye," she said, her voice faraway. "I woke up and you were kissing me, but you told me I was dreaming. And then you said you loved me." Harry blinked and then nodded carefully. Ginny's smile broadened. "I thought it _was_ a dream for the longest time, but it seemed too real."

"I'm so sorry I left you," Harry sighed, frowning slightly.

"Harry, don't apologize," Ginny stated vehemently. Harry abruptly shut his mouth. "Sorry," she replied, abashed. "What I mean is I understand why you had to do what you did. And I'm not mad. I did a lot for our side out here in these hospitals." She laughed quietly and Harry basked in the sound. "I'm just glad you're here, and you're alive." Her eyes welled with tears again and she ducked her head shyly. "Just…don't – don't ever –"

"Don't ever what?" Harry prompted gently, placing a finger under her chin and forcing her head up.

Ginny flushed.

"Don't ever leave me again," she breathed.

Harry crushed her against his chest, his heart hammering in his throat. The world seemed to open up before him with endless possibilities. A new day was dawning and the tent glowed with the light of early morning.

He sought out her lips and kissed her thoroughly. When he pulled away, he looked her deeply in the eyes. "I will never leave you again. There's nowhere I'd rather be than with you, Ginny."


End file.
